


Apostil

by Niobium



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Domestic Avengers, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Gen, M/M, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Pre-Canon, Thor Is Not Stupid, Tumblr Prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-17
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2018-04-04 19:45:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 9,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4150500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niobium/pseuds/Niobium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short drabbles and ficlets from the MCU based on prompts from various sources.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Equitability: Pepper/Tony, PG

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter titles list the characters and rating.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For ilikeconfusingpeople@tumblr, prompt: Pepper/Tony, 67%

Tony drained his coffee cup as the last of the R&D staff departed the conference room, leaving just him and Pepper. “That went well,” he said.

Pepper glanced up from going through her notes. “’Well’? It was a home run. That contract should let us hire at least fifty more R&D staff and maybe a dozen new security experts for Maria.”

Tony shrugged. “You’re right. A grand slam, considering the current status of the United States government’s intelligence apparatus.”

“If we’re taking the dry spell into account I think we can call it a shut-out.”

“I wouldn’t go _that_ far. A shut-out would have involved making sure Delphi got nothing.”

Pepper gave him a tired look, and he pointedly looked elsewhere. She went back to the email she was writing to Maria. “We can’t hold a grudge against Plutarch, no matter how much you hated him in college.”

“Oh, it’s not just college—I hate him now too.”

“Mmmm. Well, at the very least, we have to pay lip service to not having a vendetta against him.”

“I think you mean _you_ do. I’m the owner, I can hate whomever I want.”

“As long as it doesn’t leave this room.”

Tony sighed, got up, and came to stand behind her. She leaned back in her chair and he started kneading her shoulders. “Delphi’s involvement not withstanding, we kicked ass.”

Pepper let her eyes shut. He was so good with his hands. “Oh? We’re sharing credit?”

“Sure. 67/33 sounds about right.”

“67% me and 33% you?” she said, smiling.

“I was more thinking—”

She tipped her head back and opened her eyes. “80 me and 20 you?”

Tony cleared his throat. “67 me and 33 you,” he agreed, then leaned over and gave her a quick kiss. “I have to go see a guy about a thing. Conference call with SpaceX in ten, right?”

“Seven, now.”

“I’ll be fast.” He made for the door. “Will there be bagels?”

“There will.” Pepper straightened in her chair and swept the last of the contract paperwork off the conference room’s main display. She pulled up her notes for the SpaceX projects and sent them to the various tablets strewn around the conference table. “Would you like 33% of one?”

“Yes. And 33% of a packet of cream cheese.”

Pepper sipped from her tea. “I’ll make sure to set some aside.”


	2. Failures in Baking: Sam & Steve, PG

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For scepticalhippie@tumblr, prompt: Sam Wilson and Steve Rogers, cookies

Sam eyed the disaster Steve was making out of the kitchen. “What exactly are you doing?”

In the same tone he gave orders on a mission, Steve said, “Making cookies.”

There were three mixing bowls in the sink, half-full of water and with various remnants of Steve’s baking efforts still clinging to their sides. One had traces of dark red batter, another was coated with light brown dough, and a third had flecks of what Sam thought might be powdered sugar.

Steve was scrutinizing a tray of not-totally-failed red velvet cookies. Or, Sam assumed that was what they were supposed to be; their centers had fallen, making them look flat, and they had a crusty appearance which implied overcooking. “Can’t seem to get the temperature right on these,” Steve said.

“What did the recipe say?”

“350, but this oven doesn’t cook evenly. It’s hotter in the middle than at the back, so a third of them harden and a third of them don’t cook right.” Steve sighed and started scraping up the cookies with a spatula. “Want to help?”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “Help? No. Breakfast I can do. Cookies…look, I’m a disaster with an oven. My mom, she’s the baker. I didn’t get those genes.”

“You don’t need the right genes to bake cookies,” Steve said. “All it is, is combining things in a certain order and then baking them at the right temperature for the right time.”

Sam said, “I can see that,” and Steve shot him an impatient look.

“Making omelets is much harder than this, and you get those right every time.”

“The hell it is. You want a ham and mushroom omelet? I’m your man. Cookies? I’ll just burn the shit out of them. Or under cook them.” Sam spotted the next bowl of cookie dough when Steve moved to get a new sheet of parchment paper: oatmeal chocolate chip—oh, and there was coconut in it too. “Now, if you want help eating some of the dough…” 

Steve dragged the bowl closer to himself. “Only, if you help put them on the sheets.”

Sam made a face. Steve waited patiently. Sam groaned and went to get an apron.

“Fine. Have it your way. But it’s not my fault if they all burn.”


	3. House Rules: Jane/Thor, G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For fartherfaster@tumblr, prompt: Jane Foster and Thor, breaking the rules

Thor surveyed the chess board with a critical eye. He rubbed his chin and said, "I think at this stage I would bribe your bishops."

Jane blinked. "What? Bribe my bishops?"

"Yes. They are currently the most well-positioned to create trouble, and unlike your Queen--who presumably is above reproach—they may be willing to look aside for a tidy sum. I have read in your mother's history books that 'bishops' were known for taking bribes."

Jane stared at him. Darcy had said that Thor liked chess, but she hadn't said anything about bribes. (Or, maybe she had, and Jane hadn't been paying enough attention.) 

"That's not one of the rules."

Thor raised his eyebrows. "No?"

"No."

Thor frowned. "What of your knights, then. Can they be bribed? Surely they're interested in more land, or gold, perhaps livestock—"

"No. No one can be bribed."

"No one?"

"No."

"Your forces are quite loyal." Thor sat back in his chair. "Might I hire an assassin to dispatch your queen?"

"No."

Thor tapped the tabletop. "Perhaps an illness, spread among your footmen—"

"No! Just what kind of chess have you and Darcy been playing?"

"She said she finds the basic set of rules dull, and wanted something with more to consider."

"So you have a ruleset where you can bribe and assassinate and, and spread diseases?"

Thor nodded. "All things your people and mine have done in warfare and politics."

Jane couldn't even say she was surprised. "Well, I'll have her email those to me for next time. Your move."

Thor mmmm'd. There was a glint in his eyes as he moved one of his knights...and took her Queen.

"Wh—wait." Jane stared at the board. "How did you..." He was, at best, a couple of moves from checkmate. Which didn't seem possible, since they were maybe a dozen moves in at best, and she didn't remember her Queen's rook being there—

She groaned. "Were you moving pieces while we were talking?"

Thor had faux innocence down to an art. "Is there a rule against that?" he asked with a smile.

" _Yes __."_

"In that case, no," he assured her.

"Because you'd never break the rules to win at chess."

Thor leaned across the board. "You have confused me with someone much less honorable," he said, smiling in earnest now. Jane stopped him just short of kissing her by poking a finger into his breastbone.

"Now that I know the real rules, we're starting over."

Thor's smile turned sly. "We could add additional rules."

"So you can break them? No."

Thor kissed her chin and sat back. "Very well." He began to move his pieces back. "Shall we discuss terms?"

"...terms?"

"Yes. What the victor will receive upon winning, and what the defeated will concede in the wake of their loss."

“Are you telling me you and Darcy play for stakes?”

Thor’s smile became a grin. “Naturally,” he said.

Jane blew out a breath.


	4. Thunder Whispered Low, Jane/Thor, R

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For shinyopals@tumblr, prompt: X &/ Thor, playing the melody

Jane wakes in pre-dawn darkness, and spends a few seconds wondering why she's done so before she hears the answer: hail rattling outside in the motel parking lot. Brilliant lightning illuminates the window's wispy, thin curtains, and the thunder that follows is a hard crack that drops to a broad, almost subsonic rumble, shaking the window and setting off a raucous symphony of car alarms. She rolls over so she's facing Thor and isn't surprised to find him lying on his back, eyes open and staring at nothing in particular. 

"Enjoying yourself?" she mumbles into his shoulder. 

He smiles faintly. "I did not summon this one," he says, his voice low. "Though perhaps it was drawn to me."

"Mmmmhmmm. And yet any time we come down here, freak thunderstorms follow us all over."

Thor doesn't respond, just drops his shoulder, allowing her to shift closer to him and nuzzle his neck. He takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. The hail gives way to pounding rain and the wind picks up, and one by one the car alarms fall silent. The lightning continues; sometimes it's close and bright white and sometimes it's far overhead and tinted blue or purple. Thor's eyes seem luminous for just a moment in the wake of each flash.

She's asked him what it's like about two dozen times, and every time his answer has varied a little bit as he looks for new words to describe it. There's one thing she _hasn't_ asked, though, and lying in a cozy little motel room in southern Arizona listening to a summer monsoon wreak havoc seems as good a time as any.

"What was it like when you first learned?" she says. She's unable to bring herself to speak louder than a murmur; it feels like some sort of spell will be broken if she does.

"The first time..." He pauses, and his features tighten for a moment. She knows what this look means: whatever the memory is, it has something to do with Loki. He blinks and his expression eases. The wind outside shifts rapidly, whistling as it rushes through the motel's corridors. Eventually, Thor says, "It felt like music."

"Music?"

He nods. "I wasn't hearing it, of course. But I didn't understand then. I was too young, and had never used magic before." His eyes narrow. "It's different, to read about it, or have another tell you of it, than to do it. Especially the first time." A particularly close lightning strike draws a yelp from someone in an adjoining room, and even Jane finds herself tensing at the sheer force of the thunder it produces. Thor absently strokes her leg, and she relaxes. Nearly half a minute passes before the thunder subsides. 

Thor's eyes half-close. "It was every melody I had ever known and loved, played all at once. And I knew I should add my voice to it, but I couldn't, for I did not yet know how."

Jane reflects on the hundreds of hurdles and roadblocks throughout her career, of all the times she's been so close to an answer and still so far from the truth, and wonders if it's remotely comparable. "That must have been frustrating," she says.

He nods. "It was. But it taught me the most important lesson in all of magic."

"What's that?"

"To listen." Another burst of hail starts, and the wind redoubles its efforts. Thor's hand on her leg stills. So quietly she can barely hear him over the storm, he says, "Before you may add your voice to the song, you must first listen."

Even though Jane can't hope to hear ( _feel_ , she reminds herself) what he does, she tries, and she thinks she can detect a subtle pattern woven into the sounds of the storm. It's there in the sharp clatter of the hail which is already giving way to heavy, thudding rain again, in the ebb and flow of the wind, in the bold report of thunder all around them. It might even form a kind of melody, yet each time she feels she's about to grasp it, it slips away. Frustrating indeed.

She turns her attention to Thor again. The faint glow in his eyes flickers when he blinks, so she thinks it can't be just her imagination. She props herself up on her elbow and turns his head towards her with her free hand. He doesn't resist, though his eyes remain unfocused and staring past her shoulder. Until she kisses him, at least; then she has his full attention. She runs her hand over his chest and down to his belly, drawing random patterns with a featherlight touch until he squirms under her hand and makes a low sound of protest. When their lips part he sucks in a breath, and she kisses up along his jawline to his ear, and whispers into it, "What I’d really like to listen to right now is you."

She isn't sure she buys his line about not summoning the storm, because it conveniently circles back overhead as he urges her on top of him and makes just enough noise at all the right times. It only lightens up once they’re sprawled on the bed and catching their breath, and doesn’t disperse until daybreak. 

Thor continues to deny any involvement as they pack up for the rest of the drive, though the smile which accompanies these claims says otherwise. On the plus side, they only get one knowing look—from Darcy, who had the singular luck of being in the unit below theirs—as they check out a few hours later.


	5. House Rules, p. 2-3: Jane & Darcy & Thor, PG

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For fostertheory@tumblr, who wanted to know what Thor’s terms were, and shinyopals@tumblr, who wanted Darcy to actually find herself with two herds of goats and wanted there to be some kind of science museum.

***

“Thor said you’ve been betting with each other when you play chess.”

“Not betting—setting terms. It’s different.”

“Whatever. Apparently you owe him three libraries?”

“And three museums of his choice. And he owes me two herds of Vanir black-horned goats, a college—”

“How can he owe you a college?”

“Well it was three colleges initially but he let me trade off some of my debt in exchange for erasing some of his. Oh, and one council session.” 

“A council session?”

“Yeah. Like how you can go to Congress here? Lay people can chill out and watch a council session. It sounds fun, apparently they get into knock-down drag-out arguments about literally anything.”

***

Jane looked out over the rolling green field and said, “I told you.”

Darcy yelped as one of the ‘goats’ companionably shoved its head into her back, which nearly sent her sprawling. “I—okay how could I possibly have known when he said ‘goats’ he meant ‘horse-sized monsters’?”

“It’s Thor, he’s an alien from another galaxy, what _else_ could he mean except alien goats?”

Darcy grimaced and patted the goat on its head. “Point taken.” It huffed a breath, flicked its ears, and moved away from her. 

The best thing Jane could say about Darcy’s predicament was that Thor had worked with Tony to obtain a pasture to put them in, so they weren’t trotting up and down the streets of New York or London. A good thing, too, because it would have been labeled an apocalypse of alien ungulates in short order. The animals ranged in size from ‘very large dog’ to ‘modestly tall horse’, and though per Thor’s description they all had black horns and hailed from Vanaheimr, there the similarities ended. One cluster—the smallest and apparently least friendly—had long, shaggy coats of dark bronze-brown; tall, upright ears; clawed feet with pearly golden toes; and rows of short, stubby ‘horns’ running from their brows and down their necks to their shoulders. Another group were gangly and tall, and somewhat flighty if you didn’t stand still. These had downy, soft, black coats; huge, arcing horns that gleamed like onyx and curved back clear to their knees; and silvery hooves that Jane could swear were actually metallic. The last two were the monsters of the bunch, and yet the gentlest of all of them. They were thick and heavy bodied, with beefy forequarters; long, braided beards; blue-black scales under their short, coarse, gray and brown mottled fur; and sharp, short, tightly coiled horns which Jane thought could have easily gored a bear. They’d taken to Darcy immediately, and were already in the habit of playfully pushing her around.

“Well,” Jane said, “at least the big ones like you.”

Darcy made a face as one of them licked her hand with a bright blue tongue. “Just my luck.”

A peel of thunder overhead announced Thor’s arrival, and he landed a good distance away (probably to avoid scaring the goats), then came striding through the grass with a broad smile. 

“You!” Darcy shouted, pointing at him. “What is all of this?” One of the big goats bleated in annoyance and stepped clear of her. 

Thor spread his arms. “I have made good on my debt to you! I was even able to obtain you a matched set. Look how magnificent they are.” 

“What the hell am I going to do with twenty-six goats?!”

Thor gave Jane a quick kiss once he was close enough, and said, “I’ve no idea, I assumed you had plans when you agreed to my terms.”

Jane smothered a laugh. Darcy said, “I—I figured it was just, you know—Monopoly money!” and the big goat closest to her snorted and bumped her. She sighed and petted its ears, and it made a murmuring sound that reminded Jane of a purr.

Eyes bright, Thor said, “I would never pledge something I couldn’t provide.” He pulled away from Jane and produced a large pouch from somewhere in his cape, out of which he took a pair of sweet-smelling, tacky, black lumps. The two goats’ eyes snapped to him, and they shouldered one another in an effort to get close to him. He gave one lump to each, which they slurped up and chomped on. “A fine pair, too. With proper training they will be glorious in battle.” Thor stroked their necks and scrutinized their horns.

“Battle?” Jane said, and eyed their hooves and horns anew. “These are—battlegoats?”

“Indeed. Only just fully mature—the proper age to bond to a handler.”

Darcy sighed. “That’s...great...”

“So, wait,” Jane said. “You don’t make bets you can’t keep.”

Thor nodded. “Indeed.”

“Does...that mean you actually have a college you can give her if she calls in that marker?”

“Of course. Though, I seem to recall in the months since that particular match, it is now a museum she is owed, and I am to receive a library.”

Darcy glanced up from rubbing one of the goats on the bridge of its nose, which it seemed to like. “What kind of museum would it be? If I, you know...wanted you to make good on the museum.”

“A history museum dedicated to the Academy of Engineers. It details their journey in our society, from their humble beginnings as ship builders to their current position as the custodians of the World Engine. It was gifted to me by my uncle, Vili. I do not own it so much as it is in my name, and so I am permitted to visit it whenever I wish, and may bring as many guests as I desire.”

Jane’s breath came short. “So it’s basically the history museum of Æsir technology?”

Thor tilted his head as though to consider the question. One of the goats tried to snag the pouch of treats, and he yanked it clear and gave the animal a tired look. It grunted and swung it head away, and his attention returned to Jane. “One facet of it, yes. The Engineers are not the only ones who manage our technology, though certainly they are among the most prominent.”

Jane turned a wide-eyed stare on Darcy. It took Darcy a moment to notice, but when Jane caught her eye Darcy blinked and cleared her throat.

“Ah, I’d be willing to, uh, forgive the goat-debt if we could check out this museum of yours. Mine. _My_ museum.”

Thor raised his eyebrows at Darcy. “You do not wish to keep your goats?” He sounded like he was trying to come across as wounded despite barely holding in a what was no doubt a hearty laugh.

With a tight smile, Darcy said, “How about, _you_ keep them in trust for me.”

Thor dipped his head. He seemed to have mastered his laugh. “I can do so, if you wish. Truth be told, they will be more comfortable in the Royal Pastures, I think, and the stables would welcome their fur and milk.” He looked up to the bright summer sky, and a moment later two bolts of Bifröst-fire shot down and swept up the roaming herds. This left the battlegoats, who didn’t seem inclined to move far away from Thor and his bag of treats. He handed the bag to Darcy, which earned her two very interested muzzles, and moved to Jane. He looked down at her and raised his eyebrows, and she looped her arms around his waist. He pulled her against him, and said to Darcy, “Let us see your museum, shall we?”

Before Darcy could reply, the Bifröst shot down and carried them away.


	6. Aurora Eremus: Jane Foster, G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For this prompt at comment_fic: six sentences, ['any, any, a strange glow in the sky'](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/634515.html?thread=86648979#t86648979)

Jane's not sure what to expect, aside from maybe a strange glow in the sky. None of the prior events have good recorded data--no video footage or photos, to say nothing of telescope or spectrometer readings--and all of the write-ups are so vague they could easily be mistaken for descriptions of particularly vivid and odd-shaped aurorae or prolonged St. Elmo's Fire. So she keeps scanning the dark desert skies, gritting her teeth as the predicted time point comes and goes and there's nothing, not a peep from her equipment and nothing to see, and while Erik sighs and tells her for the tenth time that this isn't worth pursuing she starts flipping through her notebook. She's been crunching these numbers for months, running simulations on a colleague's cluster nonstop, and poured over every last incident in minute detail, and now that she's coaxed Erik out to the middle of nowhere she can't bear to think it won't happen.

Before she can find anything wrong with her calculations, Darcy says her name, and she looks up to see a brilliant curtain of light splitting the dark sky. Her heart leaps into her throat, because 'a strange glow in the sky' doesn't even begin to describe it, and to Jane it's so much more than just that: it is proof.


	7. Burning Brighter: Sif, G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For theladyssif@tumblr, prompt: Sif, http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/halestorm/iamthefire.html

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pre-Canon. References Agents of SHIELD S01E15, “Yes Men”.

***

She only ever admits it to Haldorr, and so when he is stolen from all of them (most importantly from _her_ ) it is a secret she keeps to herself, as though it will tie her to him even in death. She thinks Loki suspects. Vermundr, who trained her and Haldorr and the princes, had known, but he's dead now as well, taken by old age. Thor doesn't know. Týr doesn’t know.

The stories all say the greatest Berserkers are the ones who aren't tormented by the rage called up by the staff. They are wielded and wield it in turn, because they surrender themselves to it completely. They embrace it and hold back nothing. There is great risk in this, of course, as a warrior might lose themselves to the rage entirely. But it is the only way to plumb the depths of the staff's rage, or so the stories claim. Loki and Thor speak of magic in this way, and Sif wonders if that is the real secret: that to truly achieve one's full potential as a Berserker, one must embrace the staff as the force of magic that it is. 

She has no magic beyond the most rudimentary levels. She’d had enough command of the forces of life to Ascend with an apple, and as an adult has just enough to heal herself from all but the gravest injuries. She can use mind magic enough to manage the Allspeech. That is all.

Except, perhaps, for the staff. 

Loki struggles with it, though she suspects that is just his skill with mind magic interfering. He's too strong and too used to protecting his thoughts, and the staff can't push him in the right ways. Haldorr had excelled. He'd only turned down a position among the Berserkers to remains with the three of them. And Thor...

She looks down at the staff in her hands. The runes and designs flowing along it are dark right now, but the faint light coming from the hall behind her is just enough to illuminate the edges of them. This one is marked with owls and ravens, and is her favorite. Any time she comes to the Berserker training grounds she uses it if another hasn't claimed it first.

She spars with the Berserkers because Loki's not particularly good and Thor won't touch the staffs unless required to. Every time she comes here and crosses weapons with them, Holfi—the Berserkers' captain—asks her when she'll join their ranks. (He may not know the truth of how it is with her and the staff, but he respects and values her skill.) And every time, she always gives the same excuse: that she's sworn her sword to Thor and Loki. Holfi always acquiesces, and assures her she'll be welcome among the Berserkers if she ever changes her mind.

She's not certain she _would_ be welcome. Unlike the rest of them, the rage doesn't gnaw at her heart and weigh heavy on her mind. It doesn't leave her drained and hollow like a cold hearth. No, it fills her and makes her soar, and when she comes down all she wants is to return to that moment. She doesn't think this will sit well with the rest of them. So many of them wrestle with the effects of the staff, while they wield it (like Thor) or after they’ve put it aside. If she were to live and fight among them, would they not find her joy insulting? Would it not mock their struggles?

"Looking for some time in the ring?"

She doesn't startle, but it's a near thing. Holfi is standing in the doorway, watching her with those keen, black-brown eyes of his.

She turns to face him, standing the staff on one end. "I am," she says.

She sees his eyes dart to her ungloved hand on the staff. A corner of his mouth twitches in a near-smile. "I've some youngsters who could use a demonstration or two."

"Does that mean you'd rather I didn't beat you senseless?"

Holfi laughs and takes the top staff from the rack, one engraved with Yggdrasil. It's his preferred weapon, though sometimes she's seen him wield the dragon-carved staff. Almost no one but him or Sif will use that one, not after what happened the first time Thor used it. Berserkers are a superstitious lot when it comes to the staffs.

"I wouldn't say that, Lady Sif." He nods towards the hall and turns to go. "Come, help me show these children how a proper Berserker fights."

He knows, she decides. He knows, and says nothing, just asks her to join them, hoping one day she might say yes. So here is one other person who knows her secret, the one Haldorr took to his grave: that she is a Berserker out of the tales of old. That for her, the rage is a birthright rather than a burden.

She tightens her grip on the staff and feels a raven's beak and an owl's claws digging into her palm, and follows after him.


	8. Trade Negotiations: Sif & Melinda May & the Warriors Three, G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For theladyssif@tumblr, primpt: How about May and Sif and "It doesn’t have to be that way."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Settlers of Catan](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Catan) seems like a game the Asgardians would love, and I imagine they have something exactly like it in Asgard.

***

May looked over the gameboard with a critical eye. Her options were limited and her allies few. Volstagg and Hogun had been cordial enough in trading with her early on, but now neither of them had what she needed. Sif was ostensibly working with Fandral, though he kept holding her back. If May didn’t manage to win this round she suspected Fandral was in for a bit of a surprise when Sif finally opted to turn on him. Either way, Sif was also holding only one card. The likelihood it was what May needed wasn’t good. May, meanwhile, had no trading port to turn her sheep and stone into what she wanted, and she had no idea what might tempt Fandral into a trade. She just needed to build one more ship to land on another island to win the game.

May bit her lip. “What about...sheep.”

“What about them?” Fandral asked. He flicked the edges of his cards. May was pretty sure he had enough wood to build four ships at this point (just no sheep—shortsighted of him, to let May have the high yield pastures), and all she needed was one piece.

“A trade. My sheep for your wood.”

Fandral scoffed. “So you can build yourself another ship and win the game?”

May grimaced. Volstagg’s eyes widened; he apparently hadn’t been paying nearly enough attention to the large spread of islands, particularly the area May had taken to settling. Hogun smiled and said nothing.

May took in a deep breath and let it out. “It doesn’t have to be that way,” she said. “We can share the victory.”

“Now you’re offering to partner with me,” Fandral said, and leaned back in his chair.

May grimaced. She didn’t actually want to partner with Fandral. He would clearly be the kind of partner who left everything up to the other person.

Next to her, Sif said, “I’ve only one measure of wood to offer you, Melinda May, but it is yours, in exchange for whatever you find reasonable.”

May blinked at her. Fandral sucked in a breath and straightened in his chair.

“Traitor! We have an exclusive trade agreement.”

Sif raised her chin. “Which I am now breaking,” she said.

“I’ll sink your entire fleet.”

“But May will win, and perhaps consider raising my fortunes again. If I help you win, what will I gain?”

“I was going to make you my second!”

May said, “I’ll make you a full partner."

Sif nodded and pushed her one card to May. “Done.”

“I told you having both of them in the same game would prove disastrous,” Volstagg said, and threw down his cards.

Fandral sighed and started putting away his game pieces. “I’d really hoped with Ms. Lewis and Thor out of the game I’d finally have a shot at winning,” he said.

May held out her hand to Sif, and Sif clasped her arm. “May our ventures be prosperous,” Sif said. “I must confess I’m a poor trader, though my people will guard your tradeships well enough.”

May hesitated. “Well, we’d be starting over in future games.”

“Oh?” Sif looked at their Catan setup and its myriad islands connected by threads of tiny ships and dotted with colorful settlements. “A pity. Your empire is considerable.”

“We’ll make it bigger and better next time,” May said.

“Because we will forge it together,” Sif agreed.


	9. Improbable Shopping List: Jane/Thor, Sif & the Warriors Three, G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For its-major-monogram@tumblr, prompt: For the prompt thing, Fosterson, " I do"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to apologize, because this didn’t come out fluffy in the way it…could have, and Sif and the Warriors Three showed up.

***

“...you don’t actually have to get a, a ah,” Jane swept through the instructions on her tablet, “’measure of manticore venom and a wyvern’s tooth’, do you?”

As if those were two of the more reasonable things on this ridiculous shopping list, Thor said, “I do,” with solemnity.

“How long is that going to take?”

“It shouldn’t be long,” Fandral assured her. He was lounging in one of the large chairs by the fireplace. “There’s a wyvern lair on Lady Nathmina’s property, and she owes me a hunt there from when I—” He caught a warning look from Sif, and cleared his throat. “Well let’s just say she’ll agreed to it.”

Volstagg said, “And my brother’s oldest daughter married a man whose family raises manticores,” around a drink from his mug. He, Sif, and Hogun were all sitting at the small dining table with the private the palace staff had brought them.

“Raises...manticores,” Jane said faintly.

“Their barbs are prized by the Vanir for etching,” Hogun said. “Nothing is as accurate as a manticore’s stinger.”

“And, they grow back, so you can easily keep producing a good supply all year, and without harming them,” Fandral added.

Jane rubbed at her eyes. Thor had told her to expect an incredible list of odds and ends for the ritual to summon the ‘gravity spirit’, and now she was wishing she’d taken him at his word.

“Okay, so, we’re covered on those. Then we need an...igarajuk’s feather?”

“I have one,” Thor said. 

With a knowing look, Sif said, “I seem to recall you have far more than one.” Thor grunted but didn’t reply otherwise. 

Jane finished, “And, a dvalin’s hoof, hollowed out.”

Hogun said, “That I can obtain, though,” he looked at Thor, “I may need a formal request from you for it.” Thor nodded and stroked one of Jane’s leg’s absently.

Jane groaned and laid back on the couch she and Thor were sharing. At least the furniture in Thor’s palace rooms was the good stuff, so they were all reasonably comfortable during their planning session. “Is this really going to be worth it?”

“Will a telescope that is capable of looking upon the well at the heart of Midgard’s galaxy be worth all of this?” Thor said. Jane could hear the smile in his voice, so she shoved at him with her leg.

“Okay, okay, point made.” She sat up again and resumed scrolling down the list. “Just seems like some weird stuff for a gravity spirit to care about.”

“It’s not that it cares,” Fandral said, “just that the combination of them creates an effect which will attract its attention.”

Jane raised her eyebrows. “Then we’ll bargain with it?”

Thor said, “You will, as it is to be your telescope.”

“What...is it going to want in exchange for this?”

Hogun looked thoughtful. “Void spirits are not especially greedy that I recall. In all likelihood, the promise of a well-constructed vessel which will not be allowed to fall into unscrupulous hands will be sufficient.”

“’Unscrupulous’?”

“He means someone who would harvest the void spirit from the telescope and use its energy for unsavory ends,” Thor said. “A spirit’s energy is its blood, in effect, and when bound to a device they are vulnerable to manipulation by others. It will require assurances from you that this won’t be allowed to happen.”

Jane looked from Thor to Hogun. “Do...we have a way to keep it secure?”

“There are spells we may use to protect the vessel,” Hogun said.

“Spells,” Jane said. “As in, things with more shopping lists?”

Sif said, “Some, certainly.”

Jane sagged. “I don’t suppose a really good combination lock will be enough?”

The looks on their faces spoke volumes. “...right,” Jane said. “So what’s a security spell going to need?”

Hogun picked up the tablet sitting on the table next to him, tapped and gestured a handful of times, and offered it over.

Jane glanced at the first few instructions for the spell and sighed. _Direct visualization of Sagittarius A*,_ she reminded herself, and began adding the requirements to their list.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Sagittarius A*](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sagittarius_A*) is the designation of a powerful astronomical radio source at the center of the Milky Way, and thought by many astrophysicists to be the site of a supermassive black hole.


	10. Observations: Sif & Heimdall, G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For theladyssif@tumblr, prompt: Sif and Heimdall: Elder - Compassion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set just after _Agents of SHIELD_ season 2 episode 15, _Yes Men_.

***

After she takes Lorelei to the prisons—watches the energy field snap into place and the collar collapse down, and Lorelei rip it from her neck and throw it at a wall, then scream into the sound-swallowing force magics cast over her cell—after that, Sif goes to see her brother.

She thinks she understands, now, why Thor had gone on these walks. It hadn't just been to ask after Jane Foster and Midgard, though of course that had been his primary goal. There'd been a great deal of things troubling him at the time: Loki, locked away then as Lorelei was now; the turmoil in the Realms which seldom responded to diplomacy; his father's obvious machinations in setting down the path of his life, from spouse to throne. 

She thinks maybe Thor had gone to the Observatory for a similar reason she did tonight, which is to seek solace in the endless gaze of the Observatory and the one who observed. Her brother seldom speaks much, even with her or Thor, but his presence is comforting. He's steadfast and unflinching, measured and careful yet not hesitant. In uncertain times, simply being near him is a boon.

He doesn't turn to her as she approaches, though she thinks she seems him shift his stance.

"How are they?" she asks, not needing to say who she means.

"They are well. Thor still searches for the artifact Loki wielded against Midgard. Jane Foster's science grows more popular as the days pass." He looks askance at her. "And Phil Coulson and his allies are finding ways to heal from Lorelei's predations."

Sif sighs and looks at the shimmering bridge beneath her feet. "Are they?"

He doesn't respond, though she can feel him still watching her. One of her hands forms a fist. Lorelei hadn't taken anywhere near the numbers of lives this time as she had so long ago, yet the loss of anyone else to her weighed heavily on Sif's mind. 

"I wonder that the All-father sent you and not another," Heimdall says at last. 

Sif's head snaps up. She can feel herself flush. "You think he should be soft with me because of Haldorr?"

Heimdall's gold eyes are unflinching. "I would have expected him to show you more compassion. He knows what you endured at Lorelei's hands."

Sif swallows. She's been trying not to think about it—how the All-father, of all people, had asked her to bring Lorelei back, _alive_. He hadn't been concerned with human casualties, but Lorelei had to live. He'd been explicit about that.

She takes in a breath and lets it out slowly. "No doubt he wishes to maintain his hold over Amora's aid in Council matters. He cannot do that if his bargaining chip is dead." 

Heimdall studies her, then looks back out over the endless sky. "Perhaps," he says. 

It's true, the All-father might have been able to send another—though perhaps that too is part of his point. He _could_ have sent another, but he sent Sif, who had the most reason of anyone to wish for Lorelei's death. And he'd had Sif bring Lorelei back alive.

Sif wonders if the All-father has always been so in his dealings with others, and she's merely failed to notice, or if the death of Frigga has changed him so deeply. Of course, losing Haldorr had changed her in irrevocable ways. Could she expect anyone to face such a loss and be unscathed, even the All-father?

She thinks Heimdall is waiting for her to speak her mind. (He's so unlike Loki or Thor in this way; they have always demanded to know her unvoiced thoughts, while Heimdall waits for her to offer them.) "It is well, brother,” she says. “I would rather be the one to fetch her, and ensure she cannot do to others what was done to..." 

She almost says ‘me’, but that's a little more selfish than she feels like being in this moment. Haldorr had been her lover, but he'd also been Thor and Loki's friend, and her whole family had been prepared to accept him as her spouse. They had all loved him, and Lorelei had taken that away.

She was glad to have been the one to retrieve her, no matter the All-father's reasons behind sending her.

"What was done to us," she finishes. 

Heimdall makes a low sound and sets a hand on her shoulder. He says nothing, though he doesn't need to. 

She covers his hand with one of hers, and together they watch the shifting light of the stars and nebula until dawn.


	11. Splash: Thor & Avengers Team, G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For shinyopals@tumblr, prompt: Camellia - my destiny is in your hands, Thor with your choices of other(s)

***

Sam watched as Bruce considered the softball in his hands and the not-very-large (by Sam’s estimation) target he had to hit with it.

Thor called to Bruce, “My destiny is in your hands.” He was quite a sight on the dunking platform in his brilliant red and blue swim trunks and thin, white, Avengers-branded t-shirt. The shirt had been mandated by Tony, though Sam expected it to come off the second Thor got doused. _If_ he ever did, which at this rate wasn’t a certainty.

“You are _not_ helping,” Bruce said. Thor’s already bright smile became a grin. 

“I don’t believe I’m expected to help you.” He eyed the large water tank below him, which had previously been graced by Natasha (dunked by Fury), Colonel Rhodes (dunked by Pepper), and Barton (dunked by Maria). “And this water looks quite cold.”

Barton, who was standing next to Sam and Steve, groaned. “Come on, Banner. If Thor goes in that means Stark is up next.”

“I’ll buy your turn off you,” Colonel Rhodes said.

Barton squinted at him. “How much.”

Bruce sighed and shook his head, probably trying to tune everyone out. He took his second shot...and missed.

Tony had wanted the charity carnival to include some ‘fun and games with the Avengers’, and given how hot the early summer was tuning out to be the dunking booth had proved _immensely_ popular. They’d already raised nearly two hundred thousand dollars for various charities via pledges made based on who was dunked. However no one had managed to dunk Thor yet. Sam was beginning to suspect Thor might be shifting the wind to put the ball off course; it was the kind of thing he liked to do if he thought he could get away with it.

Bruce’s last throw missed as well, and he sighed and surrendered his spot in line to Tony. (Given Tony’s form on his last turn, Sam wasn’t sure any cheating would be necessary.)

What Sam needed was a distraction, though there were only a few things which could reliably distract Thor. He glanced behind himself, scanning the audience for one of them.

“Looking for someone?” Steve asked.

“Yeah—did Jane come to this?”

Steve squinted out over the crowd of people. “Pretty sure I saw her earlier.”

“Yeah, same.” Sam pulled out his phone and typed up a quick text. Steve, who’d been close enough to see what it said, gave him an amused look.

“Bringing in backup?”

Sam got a response, sent a quick reply, and put his phone away. “Let’s just say I have a theory as to why no one’s put Thor in the water yet.”

Steve frowned. “You think he’s cheating somehow?”

“I’m not going to cast dispersions on his honor or anything,” Sam said. Tony was taking his second shot—and it missed. Sam folded his arms. “But I’m also determined to get him off that platform. I wanna see someone put Stark in.”

Jane and Darcy both appeared at Sam’s elbow a moment later. Darcy said, “Hey guys. Wanted us to watch you dunk Thor?”

Sam said, “Yeah, though,” he pointed at Jane, “I might need your help getting it done.” 

Jane raised her eyebrows at him. “My help?” She shook her head. “I can’t hit the broad side of a barn.”

“I mean maybe you could distract him.”

Jane gave him a dubious look. “Distract him?”

“Yeah. Could you ah, maybe just,” Sam gestured, “make eyes at him? Blow him a kiss?”

Darcy said, “She won’t need to do anything that dramatic. Waving and saying hi should be enough.”

Jane rolled her eyes at Darcy. Even though she seemed unconvinced as to how much she could help, she still said, “Sure. When’s it your turn?”

Tony’s third pitch went wide and bounced off the side of the tank. He threw up his arms. Sam said, “That would be now. But let me miss once.” 

Jane nodded and moved away from the two of them with Darcy in tow. Sam stepped up and traded his ticket for a trio of softballs. “Ready to get soaked, big guy?” he said, and tossed one up to catch it.

Thor shifted on the platform. If he’d been anyone but himself Sam would have called it a wiggle. “I’m prepared to watch you try.”

Tony worked his way through the group to stand next to Steve. He leaned over to Steve and said in a low voice, “Fifty bucks says he misses.” 

“You’re on,” Steve replied.

Sam cut a look Steve. “No pressure,” he muttered, and Steve smiled slyly at him.

“It’s a good bet.”

“We’ll see.” Sam wound up and threw. The ball clipped the edge of the target by a hair, not quite enough to trigger it. Thor swung his legs.

Jane stepped out from behind Bruce and waved at Thor, who raised a hand at her in greeting.

“Having fun?” she called, and he nodded.

“That I am. This was one of Fury’s finest plans yet.”

Sam gripped the next softball and tried to look casual. “It sure was,” Jane said, and leaned up against the rail that separated the people throwing softballs from the victims. “Those are nice swim shorts.” 

Thor looked down at them, tugging at one leg. “Yes, Darcy said I would—”

Sam threw his pitch. It wasn’t perfect, but it didn’t need to be—it just needed to connect. And it did, and down into the water Thor went.

“Yes!” Sam shouted, holding up his arms while Steve thumped him on the back. Jane covered her mouth to smother a laugh, then ducked under the rail to greet Thor as he got out. Somewhere behind them Sam thought he heard Barton say, “ _Finally_.”

Because he was Thor he looked ridiculously majestic even when hefting himself out of a dunking booth. Maybe _especially_ because he was Thor, which got Sam to wondering when Steve would be the one on that platform. 

As Sam had expected, Thor peeled off his shirt and tossed it aside, to the fanfare of probably every smartphone within optical zoom distance taking a dozen photos. He wiped off his face, saying, “I’ve been bested! I commend you on your victory, Sam Wilson.” He started to close in on Jane, who was peering at Darcy’s phone while Darcy tapped at it and thus not paying attention. Once he was in arm’s reach of Jane, Thor added, “And on your choice of allies.” Too late, Jane looked up from the phone, and before she could react Thor looped an arm around her waist and picked her up. Darcy ducked clear as Jane yelped and flailed.

“You’re soaking wet!” she shouted, and Thor laughed and pulled her against him.

“As now are you! Such are the wages of your treachery, Jane Foster.”

“I’m not a towel!”

Sounding disappointed, Thor said, “No, indeed, you are not.” He set Jane down and took one of the towels Pepper was offering him. Fortunately she’d brought a second one, probably having expected something like this to happen. Jane took it and wrapped herself up.

“This is what I get for helping you,” Jane said to Sam. He gave her an apologetic smile.

Darcy held up her phone. “Tell us it wasn’t worth it,” she said, and they all gathered to watch Thor go into the water.

Sam saw Tony give Steve a crisp fifty and a tight smile before heading around to take his turn on the platform. Back in the line, Colonel Rhodes and Barton were shaking hands. Barton gestured for the Colonel to step up in his place. Steve was getting out his phone, and the Colonel was warming up his pitching arm.

“Definitely worth it,” Sam said.


	12. Sweet and Bitter: Sam/Steve, PG

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For stardustandstrawberries@tumblr, prompt: Sam/Steve, yarrow - cure for a broken heart

***

Everyone had their good days and their bad days. For Sam, Veteran’s Day was always a bad one. He tended to spend it in seclusion in his apartment, not talking a whole lot. Sometimes he drank. Sometimes he read. Mostly he tried not to think back. An irony, considering the stated purpose of the day, but if he’d learned anything in his years at the VA it was that reactions were a spectrum, not neat little buckets. 

“When we get out I’m going to get a case of beer and drink the whole thing on Veteran’s Day,” Riley had said one November. Sam had scoffed at him.

“An entire case? Kinda greedy.”

Riley had shrugged. “Whatever, man. We’ve _earned_ it.”

Now Sam couldn’t touch beer on Veteran’s Day. Any other day of the year it wasn’t a problem. Just not on Veteran’s Day.

A thick-bottomed tumbler full of a yellow-orange colored drink clanked down on the tile counter in front of him. He sat back and found Steve standing across from him.

Sam nudged the glass with a finger. "What's this?"

"It's my patented cure for a broken heart."

Sam gave Steve a wry smile. Steve wasn’t a huge Veteran’s Day fan either. "Yeah?" Sam said, and took a whiff. It _smelled_ good, but he'd have expected nothing less. It turned out Steve had taken to mixed drinks first thing after defrosting; prohibition had killed that culture in his time, so he’d been interested in seeing what everyone had come up with seventy years later. Sam could smell bourbon for sure, peach bitters, a little cherry and some lemon. He could see bits of candied orange zest floating on the top. However...

“So I’m drinking this alone?”

Steve smiled with smug self-assurance. “Not at all.” He set a second glass down next to Sam’s. Sam sighed.

“Not really the same.”

Steve said, “On the contrary,” and offered the glass to Sam. “Have a whiff. But, not too deeply.”

Sam frowned at him but did as suggested—and jerked his head back in surprise. “Jesus Christ.” He pinched at his nose. “The hell is in that, avgas?”

"I worked out a deal with Thor. He gave me a little stash of my very own." Steve gestured at Sam’s glass. "Come on, give it a try."

Sam took a sip. It was a good mix of sweet and fruity, with just a little bite. “You know, for a guy who can’t get drunk except on alien moonshine, this is pretty good.”

Steve raised his glass, and Sam followed suit. They both enjoyed a few sips, then Steve said, “I was thinking, since today is one of those days,” he gave Sam a Significant Look, “how about we make some popcorn and spend the evening on the couch watching tasteless action movies."

"Kettle corn."

Steve shook his head. "You and that sweet tooth. Fine, kettle corn."

Sam smiled his first real smile of the day—maybe of any Veteran’s Day since Riley—and moved to fetch a big dutch oven pot from under the counter while Steve got the kernels, sugar, and oil. It wasn’t long before the smell of sugary popcorn was wafting through the apartment. 

One Terminator movie later, Sam mumbled, "This is a pretty good cure,” into Steve’s collarbone. Two drinks and he was already nodding off. He was such a lightweight these days. But really it was Steve’s fault for getting him comfortable and warm by curling up with him on the couch. 

He thought he heard Steve say, "Told you,” just as he fell asleep.


	13. Thor vs. Earth Technology: Jane/Thor, Darcy, G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My musings on MCU!Thor interacting with Earth technology. I might add to this. Not sure. Maybe this is a whole fic. "Thor vs. Earth Technology".

“So then you just type in some key words, click on the enter key or this button, and it starts searching. It’s pretty fast, just takes a few seconds.”

Thor frowned. “I see,” he said. He had an expression Darcy couldn’t quite identify, though it seemed to fall somewhere between consternation and surprise. She squinted at him. 

“What.”

Thor had been leaning over to examine Darcy's laptop; now he straightened. He was trying to look casual, which never worked. Darcy sighed and said, “Spit it out.”

Thor cleared his throat. “It is...somewhat different than I’m used to.”

Jane raised her eyebrows. “Different how?”

Thor glanced between them. He seemed to be getting distinctly uncomfortable. In the handful of days since his return Darcy had taken to cataloging the things that put him off his guard, and she was pretty sure she knew what was going on here. She said, “Different as in, less advanced?”

Thor’s lips thinned. “Yes.”

“Our tech is primitive, is what you’re saying,” Jane said, and smiled in wry amusement. 

Thor focused on the tablet in his hands. (Darcy thought he was trying his best to avoid meeting Jane's eyes.) In a tone which screamed ‘my mom told me never to be rude about other people’s old, busted junk and for once I’m trying to actually do that’, he said, “I would not say it is primitive.”

Darcy said, “But you’re for sure thinking it.”

Thor gave her an exasperated look. “On Asgard we seldom interact with our systems using this manner of device.” He touched the laptop's keyboard. “What we have is more similar to this,” he indicated the tablet Jane had given him, “though," he turned it over, examining it from several angles, "the method of their manipulation differs.”

Jane said, “But if there’s no keyboard and you need to spell something out how do you do that?”

"Software keyboard?" Darcy guessed. "Some kind of gesture typing?"

Thor shook his head. “They can all understand spoken language. If an individual does not speak, they may write on them.” He gestured as if he was writing something, though the movements he made seemed odd to Darcy; they were choppy and abrupt. 

Jane looked impressed. “So they all have voice and writing recognition?”

"Actual good handwriting recognition would be _so much_ better than Swype, I _suck_ at Swype," Darcy muttered to herself.

Thor continued, saying, “And they are not only viewed on a flat surface such as these. Displays which allow for direct manipulation are more common. Those skilled with mind magic may use that to interface with them as well.”

“Holographic _and_ telepathic interfaces are you _serious_?” Darcy sat up straighter. “Tell me you brought one with you.”

“I...did not,” Thor said, sounding apologetic.


	14. Before the Thunder Shook Us: Jane/Thor, G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For thezelbinion@tumblr, prompt: Jane to Thor, “Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?” and “Hey, I’m with you, okay? Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post-Age of Ultron, could be considered contemporaneous with _[The Obloquy of Newness](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4767476)_.

***

Jane’s used to Thor showing up randomly no matter where she is, from Atacama to Mauna Kea and everywhere in between. Sometimes, he even manages to be subtle about it, and surprise her by showing up without warning. Like tonight, when she gets in a little before dawn, and flops onto the modest hotel bed and right onto him.

He grunts in surprise and she yelps. Between the long night and preceding longer month of lectures she forgets there’s a perfectly good reason someone large and solid might be lurking in her bed in the dark, and panics, flailing and trying to get to her feet and away. She manages to knock over the lamp and sweep the alarm clock off the sidetable before the sound of Thor’s voice drags her back to reality.

“Jane,” he says, his voice low. She freezes.

“Thor?”

“Yes.” The bed creaks as he shifts his weight, and he touches her shoulder lightly. She can only see an outline of him in the pre-dawn dark of the hotel room. “Darcy let me in. I apologize, I didn’t think to leave a light on so that you might see me.”

Jane lets out a shaky breath. “It’s, ah, it’s fine, I just, uh...” She tries to come up with a good reason for her freakout and can’t. “I really have no excuse for that, actually.”

Thor makes a low sound which is probably a gentle disagreement. “You’re tired and weren’t expecting me.”

“Yeah. I guess.” She leans into him, deciding her clothes can wait, and he curls around her. “So is there a reason you’re naked in my bed and not in New York working with Wanda and Vision and learning all about their magic?”

He strokes her hair. “I wished to see you.”

She sighs, feeling what this is about come out from its hiding place in the back of her mind. “You mean, before you go.”

“That as well. But I won’t depart for Asgard for some time yet.”

“Right.” She kisses his arm. “I’m still not looking forward to that.”

“Nor am I.”

She’s too tired to do much except relax in his arms, so he helps her get her clothes off, tossing them wherever, and they fall asleep together. Not for long, though. Jane wakes up with a start to what seems like full daylight, and then it’s dark again. Thunder explodes outside, close enough to make the motel room windows rattle, and hail pounds on the tile roofs of the motel’s buildings.

Thor is sitting up next to her, and it takes her a second to realize he’s panting. She reaches out to touch his arm, and finds he’s sweating too.

Keeping her voice low, she says, “Is everything alright?”

He sucks in a breath, holds it, and lets it out in a rush. Outside the wind howls. “Yes,” he whispers. “I think so.”

He has dreams and nightmares quite frequently, so this isn’t anything new. Sometimes he relates them to her and sometimes he doesn’t, and Jane hasn’t ever felt up to asking him why he doesn’t want to tell her about some of them. Sometimes she wonders if she ever will. Even after two years, they’re still getting to know one another in many ways.

Normally she doesn’t press him for details, she just waits to see if this time he’ll tell her. Yet the way he’s holding himself—all tense and ready for action—makes her want to ask what he saw. She doesn’t need to, though. 

“There had been a war, some sort of...immense conflict, engulfing the whole of the galaxy. It was nearing its end and precious few had survived. And in the final battle we won, but it didn’t matter, for there was nothing left. Our friends, our families, our homes—all the worlds of Yggdrasil, shattered beyond reckoning. Our victory was meaningless. We had nothing, not even one another.”

She grips his arm, and he lays back and pulls her close. For a moment he holds her tight enough that it borders on uncomfortable, so she says against his neck, “Hey. I’m with you, okay? Always.”

Considering that her lifespan is an eye blink compared to his, it’s a ridiculous thing to say. In fact that’s a topic they really need to discuss and keep avoiding. Like right now; she’s thought of it, yet there’s no way she’s mentioning it to him, not after he’s had a nightmare like that.

He loosens his hold on her and kisses the top of her head. He lets the storm speak for him: the thunder and lightning have subsided and the hail has become light rain. A brisk wind is bearing the system away.

He seems disinclined to let go of her, so Jane resigns herself to being held onto while she sleeps, and situates herself so she’s comfortable. In a few minutes she’s already dozing, though it feels like he might not for some time yet.

She murmurs, “I’m with you,” again, hoping it will help him get back to sleep faster, and drifts off.


End file.
